


Yes, Boss

by abscontrix



Series: Someone Worth Serving [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Exhibitionism, F/M, Gen, Genderswap, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Smut, Strap-Ons, Submission, Trans Character, Violence, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscontrix/pseuds/abscontrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Syb & Jim are some nasty bastards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw: violence; violent sex, including the use of hooks and wax, and the occasional performance of nonconsent; sometimes-FTM!Moran, sometimes-cis-fem!Moran, never-femme!Moran.

She’d been looking for someone worth serving for a long time, Sybil Moran. In school, her professors had long told her – you’ll find someone at the next level, Syb, it’s harder there. On to middle school, which she started with uni-level maths and reading; high school, where the only people she liked were the sharpest teachers; even tried her hand at university, found a few more professors she liked, but it was all so pointless.

She lived for the range. Every weekend, feeling that glorious moment of nothing as the bullet hit the chamber, beautiful nothing, stretching into everything as she took aim, fired, watched for impact. Nothing forever.

She’d tried drugs, kink, anything else to get this feeling. Every dom she’d met was pathetic, all ego and no substance, doughy engineers panting as they slapped her, beat her, melted wax hardening on her skin. The closest she’d come to that sacred nothing was the hooks, dug into her shoulders and she hung in the middle of a deep, dark blankness. But he hadn’t been worth serving, and she’d nearly broken his arm when he punched her without asking. They all tried to take out their self-hatred on her, and their pain, punishing her for the pretty girls who’d laughed at them on the playground, in the office. She looked the part, with her blonde, short-cropped hair, wide-eyed, delicate-featured.

She enlisted after a while of slumming around, rose to the ranks best suited for the most range time, always craving more, reprimanded constantly for sneaking out rifles that weren’t hers. It was probably the right course for a kid too pretty to overlook but too poor to be safe. But it wasn’t like the films, her exceptionalism didn’t get her enough leeway, and everyone was so boring, the toughest commanding officer not worth following. She’d even tried to find Sherlock after her discharge; he had of course dismissed her for her sex, hadn’t seen past the breasts and bone structure to her _skills_. She’d gone to India, after that, hunted tigers and celebrated with tattoos, a rank she couldn’t attain inked into her arm, the beast across her back.

Well, she returned to London, bought a suit and a good hat, learned how best to mimic facial hair and thickened her brow, bound her breasts. She skulked around, smoking nasty hand-rolled cigarettes and looking for trouble. Idiots (and they all were) would try to start shit with “the little guy” at the bar; soon she had to find new haunts in which to start a fight, the regulars at the places closest to her flat giving her a wide berth. Her foot would whip out, crunching ribs, bruising bellies – _back the fuck off._

Jim had found her over cards, gaze flicking to encompass her, alias _Sebastian_. “Well, that’s all right dear, I’ve got enough dick for the both of us,” he’d lilted, smirking. A few hands later, he’d emptied the table, but he didn’t touch the chips as he stood to leave. "Come along, then." Syb hadn’t said a word. She flicked her cig onto the floor and followed. One of the idiots tried to protest – “What about--” – and she’d glared back, hard-faced and quick and silent, silent, silent, before turning on her heel and striding the rest of the way out.

“Let’s get you a suit, then,” Jim had said, sunglasses gleaming as he smoothed his own lapels.

Her jaw tensed, but she’d merely nodded and replied in an undertone, “ _Yes, boss_.”

Jim had grinned at that. “Oh yes, I think I rather like you, into the car, there’s a good girl.” He slid across the leather seats next to her, grinning ferally. This was a far more expensive car than any she’d been in before but she tried not to let it show, slouching down but holding his gaze. “Do you want to be my little pet, Moran?”

She grinned back. “I could be your little pet, sure. I might even be good, if you beat me hard enough.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syb and Jim are nasty bastards, and use this fact to intimidate others.

She was blowing him as Sebastian, bearded and capped. A handful of his clients watched, fringed the room, away from the light, afraid to be recognized or to recognize. Jim was at his ease, leaned back. Sometimes Jim and Seb would make eye contact and have to look away so not to laugh. After all, this was supposed to be a demonstration of power, it was meant to appear a punishment, a warning to the witnesses, a threat. Seb wanted to laugh, but contorted his face into a twist of shame, pretended to be coerced, a humiliated straight man, a cautionary tale to those who might dare fuck with Jim Moriarty.

He tried to settle, to drop into being Sebastian, but he suddenly remembered practicing this in the park, Jim on a bench in clear sight of a busy path, Syb on her knees in front of him, in a dress, playing the woman as her knees dug into the gravel. Syb or Seb, woman or man, she was always just playing. Jim had smiled and waved at passersby, and he was playing too, but in a sense of doing a thing for the fun of it, never pretending. Every, every, every disguise a self-portrait.

Unwillingly, Seb cracked a smile as he took Jim’s cock deeper into his mouth, remembering Jim’s warm grin to the unwilling observers. His teeth just brushed Jim’s dick as he chuckled wetly, hoping it sounded like a gag – Jim would like that, the effect it’d have on the others. He felt, rather than saw, Jim reach up before he landed a hard blow to Seb’s ear. He caught himself with a hand, tried to remember to look like he wasn’t enjoying this, like he was scared. His whole head was ringing, half-conscious in that sweet nothing-place of shooting and violence, half-conscious in some thin buzzing screeching higher place, his/her body was just a cross-section of two ways not to be oneself, man and woman, nothing and everything.

His mouth seemed to launch itself back at Jim, and the boss’s hands forced him down hard, he was really choking this time, gurgling and heaving as Jim fucked his throat, gasps cut short as a Jim’s cock blocked his air. Seb’s eyes rolled into his head as he tried to hold on, tongue swirling and dragging, hand slipping into his pants, pumping the cock he’d packed with, that Syb and Jim had picked out together. The base pushed back against Syb’s clit on the downstroke, and truth be told, she was so sopping-slick wet that it wouldn’t take much. But her own arousal wasn’t why she did it, pumped a cock as her false beard tickled in Jim’s tidy pubic hair, working her tongue and sucking hard despite her distraction. No, this was for Jim, like everything, because these morons would really worry for themselves if this evil, powerful, glorious man, her boss, actually turned a subordinate gay during a shaming, and Syb grunted, letting her (his) desire sound in the still room, working her own dick frantically, now bucking with (actual) orgasm, pressure pounding into her nub on each downstroke, smearing her own juices onto boxers and trouser-front---

Jim hit her again, harder, and Syb let herself sprawl back, stomach exposed. “You’re not meant to like it!” Jim zipped himself up tidily, apparently unperturbed that his blowjob had been interrupted by Seb’s pleasure. “Get him out of here.” He waved a hand dismissively and crossed a leg over his knee, still apparently at perfect ease. Syb crawled toward him, apparently desperate (always playing), and Jim’s foot struck out to catch her belly, but she saw a gleam of tender, warm expression toward her as he did it, expression hidden from the witnesses under his long, dark lashes. She pretended to collapse forward, onto the couch next to him. Jim leaned forward, whispered in Syb’s ear as the thugs approached, “Give ‘em a show,” and Syb jerked back as if stricken, mouth panic-wide. She (he) scrambled back, screamed “NO” and tried to break away from the bouncers as they dragged her out, trying to get away from Jim faster than their bulk could drag her. As the door swung shut, she saw him adjust his tie-knot, and his voice rang out even and clear, “Now that you’ve indulged me, I believe we have other matters to discuss.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syb & Jim get it on at the office.

What most people didn’t know about Jim was that he really was a professor, or at least, he got paid to show up to a university occasionally. It was rather nice to have an actual alibi, a fallback, and of course, an office. He thumbed a lever under his seat, chair hissing as he dropped down. “Still awake down there?”

Syb rubbed her cheeks against the insides of his knees in response. “Yes, boss.” Her voice traveled out from under the desk, almost seeming to rub against his cock as the sound traveled toward Jim’s ears. She was naked but for a collar, of course, knees tucked under her, head ducked slightly forward to fit under the furniture. Jim had crammed her down there for a few hours while he made phone calls – much less inclined to pacing when he wasn’t performing for Sherlock. She nudged forward, nuzzling the crease where his thigh met his torso. No point in teasing, as this point; she’d been massaging up and down his legs while he’d talked, and had teased his cock to a spring-steel erection as his voice stayed sinister and even above her. She unzipped him and reached into his pants, pushing the elastic of his boxers under his balls. His cock was flushed, the now-exposed head almost plummy. She licked it, precum sweet on her tongue.

A knock. Syb withdrew silently under the desk, and Jim merely slid forward, pants still open, cock still out. She wrapped her fingers around his still-hard shaft, pulled it toward her, once, twice. His body stiffened minutely, already bowstring-tight. He kicked her under the pretense of swiveling, voice lilting normally as he chatted politely above her. She gripped him harder, nails biting into her own skin. Jim hissed, pretending to respond to an email alert on his laptop. He made his excuses to the incomer, who had probably been planned anyway. Syb was already nuzzling toward Jim’s cock as the door clicked shut. Wide-mouthed, she breathed wetly around his head, peeked out a velvet tongue to stroke his barely-exposed slit. He scooted forward, pushing his cock into contact with the inside of her mouth, then wrapped a hand around the back of her head, dragging her forward, fingers tight in her hair. She stumbled into a crawl as he mashed her face toward his hips, dick pressing against her face, precum along her cheekbone. “You want it? Take it.” He looked down that long nose, ridiculously long lashes framing his gaze. “Suck it.”

“Yes, boss,” she whispered against him before bouncing up to take his whole length in her mouth at one go. She dropped back onto her heels as she drew back, slightly, looking back up to him. Bedroom eyes. She could do this trick. She fluttered her lashes as she wrapped her lips around his head, eyes closing as she tongued around the inside of his foreskin, swirling around the tip of his cock. Suddenly, she impaled herself on him, setting a grueling pace as she took him deep back into her throat, eyes running, gasping through her nose as she tried to swallow, keep him tight in her throat, fucking him as hard as she could in tiny jerks. Jim’s head rolled back and he pumped her head a few times, then popped her off of him; spit dripped off his cock and she looked up in confusion.

“Desk.” She scrambled up, arms braced behind her, breathing shallowly as she gazed at Jim with something like fear. Wordlessly, he pulled at her hips, guiding her to rotate until she was stomach-down on his desk, his hands sliding down her arms to pin her wrists against her lower back. “Good girl.” He leaned over and against her, both hands pinning her arms down, spit-slick cock sliding against her dripping cunt. “You want this?”

Syb closed her eyes as she breathed, “Yes, boss,” and ground her hips back, dragging his length against her hot folds. He leaned back and changed the angle of his hips, pushed forward, a shallow and teasing thrust, barely enough to slide his head into her yielding body. Her eyes clenched and she hissed as he ground his hips, changing the angle but not the depth of his cock inside her.

“You /do/ want this.” She could hear a hint of a smile as he coated himself in the evidence of her want, slowly, all the way into her and she tried to push back still further but he had her pinned down hard, pressed heavily against the table, the compression of her lungs making her gasp as much as the sensations Jim was inflicting on her. He pulled out slowly, then thrust deep and fast and she clenched her teeth, trying not to mewl at the suddenness, and at the bite of the desk’s edge into her hips. He pulled back, then fucked in hard again, meeting no resistance from her incredibly giving body. His pants, still bunched near his hips, muffled the slap of flesh on flesh as he set a grueling pace, fucking hard and fast with his weight on the hands pinning her wrists. One hand moved to brace himself on the desk, then grasped her hip as the wet heat enveloped him. Her spread legs flexed, toes on the floor, shifting the angle of his cock in her minutely but dazzlingly – now the foreskin dragged down on the backstroke in just such a way, now his head slid up her tight inner walls, his balls slamming into her pelvis and clit, the change of pressure when he drove against an especially giving part of her… He wasn’t going to last long at this rate. For her part, she was panting but trying to stay quiet, riding his energy, trying to angle him just right, and she was so close, so close… 

His hands slid up her arms to her elbows, pulling her even harder back into him, pulling her torso off the desk so her whole weight was on her hips, and she was a slack body, a tightened channel, foreshortened and hot. She felt like he was bouncing her by her cervix, she had never felt so full, and the strain of her back-bent arms and bowed spine hurt so good, the tension grounding her in the sensation of him pounding into her. Her heels rocked up, but she tried to keep her feet on the floor, allowing him to ram his thick length in deep enough to fill her completely, punishing her to the very core. He released her down, back onto the desk, reaching under her to press down hard to her clit, bent over her back like rutting dogs. A few firm, sure strokes and she gasped and jerked, ground back as much as she could, impossibly full, feeling herself spasming around his girthy cock, exploding with wetness as she twisted, orgasm enveloping her as she struggled. Her mind went black, red, inarticulate and sharp and unlimited, lost in pleasure. He caught both elbows in one iron hand and slapped her ass, just once, before scooping her against him, hand on her collarbones and throat. She moaned and gasped, lost completely, completely his, still shuddering through orgasm as her head lolled back into his shoulder, white-sharp pleasure and red-warm heat from Jim’s body all she could understand, it was everything. His hand moved up to cover her mouth and she sucked and flicked greedily at his fingers around wet, panting breaths. He kept bouncing her on his cock, all the way through, until she was slack in his arms, body limp and breath merely gasping as she leaned back into him. 

His pace slowed, then stopped, as her moans became lower and breathier. He laid her on the desk with surprising gentleness, then stepped back to admire his work. She was ravaged, fucked out, eyes closed, cheek to the dark wood of his desk. Her natural juices dripped from damp curls, down the inside of her leg, brazen in her exposure. He scooped up her come, brushing her inner thigh, then wiped his fingers onto his dick. Seeing her like this made him feel so powerful. He wiped her down with his whole palms, ass cheek to midthigh and back up again; she breathed a whine and rolled her hips lazily, a small smile on her face though she didn’t open her eyes. 

Jim grinned ferally, then, flicked his hand over his still-hard dick a few times – pump, pump, pump – an easy slide with the last of her cum slicking the strokes. He came quickly, barely exhaling a controlled sigh as he shot over her ass and legs and his desk in sharp spurts. Syb hadn’t moved, and didn’t at the jets of hot semen landing on her. Jim sat back in his desk chair, leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. Syb’s eyes fluttered open, and her hand wiped the spunk off her skin and onto some papers on his desk. She sat again between his legs, rested a head against his knee, and sighed contentedly. “Nice work, boss.”

“And to you, my dear.” He ran a hand through her hair, tugged a little once, and rested his hand on her head as he watched the last of the evening sky go dark outside.


End file.
